


The sound of wings

by bestaceinspace



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angels, Fallen Angels, Friendship, Gen, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestaceinspace/pseuds/bestaceinspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing he hears is the sound of wings, and then it appears… The tall figure almost mixed in the dark colors of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The sound of wings

"Because these wings are no longer wings to fly  
But merely vans to beat the air  
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry  
Smaller and dryer than the will  
Teach us to care and not to care  
Teach us to sit still"  
\- T. S. Eliot 

 

The first thing he hears is the sound of wings, and then it appears… The tall figure almost mixed in the dark colors of the night. He flinches when Harold comes closer and steppes even more into the shadows, trying to hide between the buildings that surround him, but Finch keeps following, anyway.

“What do you want?” The voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, almost silenced by the sound of cars stuck on the traffic.

“I’m here to give you a purpose, Mr. Reese”, Harold says, calm eyes staring at him behind glasses. John doesn’t know why, but this man looks like a serious person, someone he could trust. But, no, he doesn’t trust anyone that easily. Even more in a situation like this, a situation he still hasn’t completely understood. His head is a total mess, it is like everything that surrounds him is spinning and spinning… He notices his black suit is dusty, like he fell inside a dumpster or something. He has so many questions that he doesn’t even know how to start. Not that this man in front of him will have the answers, because, obviously, he doesn’t, Reese thinks. But then, what’s he doing here in front of him, with so much determination in his eyes?

“How do you know my name?” Reese decides to ask. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think you remember me”, the man in glasses explains. “My name is Harold Finch.”

“That still doesn’t tell me why you are here”, Reese fights back, still keeping his distance.

“For the same reason as you”, Finch says, still calm, different from Reese, who still stares at him with cold eyes. He looks down, then up at Finch again. He is not just worried, he is confused, Finch notices. Finch looks down for a moment, lost in his thoughts. It will be complicated, that he does know, and he needs to be careful.

“So, you really don’t know”, Finch says. Reese just shakes his head, noticing that Finch is staring at something that is behind his back. That’s when he feels the weight on his shoulders. No, not just on his shoulders, but also on his back. It’s heavy, and he can’t understand how it is possible for him to carry this much weight, even though he knows and remembers well that he has always been strong and very well trained. It is just that… All his body feels sore, and he is not used to feel this way, so… Vulnerable and hurt. Like a truck had passed over him or like he had fallen from a high place. John holds his head with both hands and shuts his eyes, then, after a minute, he looks at Finch again, and again the images become just blur in front of his eyes.

“You must be tired, we should go –“, Finch says, getting close to the taller man, who keeps his hands in front of his face. He doesn’t let Finch touch him when the shorter man reaches out. He focuses on the weight again, and that’s when he looks at his back, and he can’t see much, but he notices the shadow he is creating on the wall beside him.

“Are those—“, he starts, staring at his own image, and then he looks at Finch, who almost smiles at him. “Wings?” He asks, the images in front of him turning to dust inside his mind. He is suddenly feeling weaker and weaker, and that’s just not right. Finch rests a hand on his shoulder, and he doesn’t flinch this time, because it doesn’t feel like a burden anymore, or like another weight he has to carry. It feels… Almost… Comforting, maybe? Can he actually trust this man, after all? 

“I know that it’s hard for you to process it all right now, Mr. Reese”, Finch says, hand still on his shoulder, “but you got to let me help you.”

Reese then puts his own hand on his shoulder, reaching for his back and feeling all the feathers there, more and more black feathers, almost hidden and unnoticeable in the dark. But he can feel them, and he knows Finch can see them too. He doesn’t have to ask; he just reaches out now and rips one of the feathers out of his back. He looks at it, with a certain admiration and understanding that this is what he is right now. He looks at Finch and sees that he is staring at his hand as well, a little smile in the corner of his mouth.

“So, you say you are here to help me.” He repeats, letting the feather fall between them both, the two men watching it until it reaches the floor, between their feet. “Why?”

“I guess you can say you are here to help me as well, Mr. Reese, but you’ll understand eventually.”

Harold says, and after that, all Reese remembers is falling against the smaller man’s body, blacking out.


	2. The weight of your past

“Look at us through the lens of a camera  
Does it remove all of our pain?   
If we run, they'll look in the back room  
Where we hide all of our feelings”

\- Camera, Editors

.

He wakes up with the clarity shining on his face, the sunlight crossing the room from the window to the couch he is lying on. Reese recognizes the place right away – it’s a library.  It is impossible not to look at all the walls covered by old books. The smell is somehow comforting and feels familiar. The soft cushions against his back made his body relax, and it is good to finally feel the tension disappear completely from his body. He slowly sits up and takes another look around. It’s almost like the sleep cleared his mind, and he woke up to a new world, even though everything looks the same. Well, except for him. He still feels the weight on his back, and his wings open around him when he stands up and walks away, still looking around carefully.

The first thing Reese thinks about is where is… He… What was his name again? _Finch._ Right. He still doesn’t completely understand what the man was up to, and he needed to know why Finch, apparently, brought him here.

The sound of someone typing something leads him to another room in the library. Reese sees at least three computer screens in front of the man he met the night before. He’s concentrated on something, and it takes him sometime to notice Reese’s presence in the room.

“How did you bring me here?” he asks. Finch looks at him, a bit surprised, almost jumping from his chair.

“I have my secrets too, Mr. Reese”, he says, looking back at the computer screen. Reese starts to feel a bit angry at the man, but, well, he could just walk away and run. The reason why he didn’t do that yet also tricks him. Finch remains in silence, starting to type again.

“Apparently, too many”, Reese says, walking closer to Finch. He wanted to make the man talk and explain things. Especially, why he talks like they already know each other.

“I was supposed to find you yesterday, John”, Finch explains, turning his chair so he could face the taller man.

“And now you know my first name”, Reese murmurs, a cocky smile on his face, “Interesting.”

“I know everything about you”, Harold says, honestly.

“What does that suppose to mean?”

“It was a long path for you to get here”, Harold explains, he stands up, and, for the first time, John realizes the man limps. He reaches out to one of the computer screens and turns it into John’s direction. “It’s normal that you feel confused”, he sits on his chair again and types some more before saying, “But, I believe, the easiest way to bring back memories - and that’s sort of like a hypnosis thing – is trough smells and sounds.”

Reese doesn’t say anything. He just stands tall and unbreakable, breathing in the familiar smells that surround him, still trying to figure out why everything feels so close to him, and why he thinks that what Finch said is right. Most importantly, he feels like he belongs here, as crazy as it seems to him. When he looks at Finch, he can’t help but feel like he is home.

 “What you are about to hear, I believe, is not going to affect you, and that’s how, I suppose, you are going to have back all the answers you are looking for”, Finch says, and Reese looks directly at him, listening.

Harold then puts his hands close to his ears, while resting his elbows on his desk, and what they both hear next is the sound of gunshots and screaming. People crying or not even speaking at all, just their heavy breaths, illustrating the panic that was in the air and, suddenly, it all came back, it all hit Reese hard, while they listened to the last recording Finch had. Reese notices the way Finch flinches a bit at every gunshot they hear. For some reason, the man seems to feel extremely uncomfortable with the sounds and still, here he is, with Reese, trying to explain everything to him.

“I’m a killer”, Reese tells more to himself than to Finch, because, well, the other already seems to know everything anyway.

“A very-well trained one”, Harold completes.

“So… All these people”, Reese starts, his voice drifting off.

“They are dead, yes”, Finch says. He watches as Reese looks back, trying to see something behind him, but there’s nothing there. Finch apparently sees the confused look on his face, because he starts talking again, and John can’t help but noticed the honesty in his voice.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, tilting his head a bit, moving his glasses closer to his eyes.

“They are not here anymore”, John says, looking at Finch again. The weight on his back disappeared for a moment, but somehow everything was still there. What he had done could not be forgotten that easily. He didn’t need a physical proof to remind him all the time, he would always have the pictures inside his brain.

“Oh yes, that”, Finch says, moving his hand. “They probably shrunk back; they will be there again when you need them too.” Reese tries to say something, to ask something, actually, but it was like Harold could read his mind, so he just added. “Don’t worry; no one is able to see it.”

“But you are”, Reese says. It’s not a question, and Harold doesn’t say anything in relation to that. He knew things about this man, _he knows,_ he just needs some more time to start to figure out everything, to deconstruct the mystery that is Harold Finch. “So”, he starts to talk again, as they just stare at each other, “why are you still here, exactly? Don’t you think I could simply kill you if I wanted to?”

 “You are not going to kill me, John”, Finch says, calmly, his voice doesn’t even change, “You are here because you are supposed to, and you _were_ a killer. You are not anymore.”

“And you are so sure about that”, Reese notices.

“Everybody deserves a second chance.”

 “And what do you want from me?”

“I need your help”, Harold says, honestly again. “I needed someone like you, someone with your skills, to do something I’m not able to.”

Reese was listening carefully, frowning, and watching Finch with methodical eyes.

 “There are special people we need to save, otherwise everything will lose its balance”, Finch explains. “The world will lose its balance.”

“And why do you think I’d do that?” Reese asks. “Why would I be interested in that?”

“Because I can give you the opportunity to have something you always wished for”, Finch explains and, seeing that Reese is still listening, he added, “Time.”

“I can give you the chance to get there in time”, Finch says, standing up. He seemed pretty excited about it. “I know it’s hard for you to forget what happened to…”

“Don’t say it”, Reese quickly cuts him off. _Jessica. Jessica._ Yes, of course he remembers.  She died because of him. He could have stopped her death, if only he had been there for her. If he had been there at all in her life, she could still be here…

“It’s important that you know that there’s still something we can do”, Finch speaks, carefully choosing his words, “something that you can do.”

“And what does she—“, Reese says, feeling his voice even more hoarse, “what does it matter?”

“She is, was, one of these people we are supposed to protect, John”, Finch said, “She was one of the 36.”

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I intend to continue this so let me know what you think so far ;)


End file.
